


Let Me Write Us, Over And Over

by 13Kat13



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Spooky, Suggestive Themes, Tumblr Prompt, it's become explicit soz fam but i'm still not rating it cos it doesn't fit?, with all of them?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-10-30 06:17:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17823467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: A place for all the tumblr prompts and drabbles. Victor and Yuuri are in love, that much will be consistent.Latest update:How About These Notions, They're Deep As Ocean - porn with a heavy dose of feelings.





	1. I Must Have Done Something Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 42 Ways To Say I Love You - 30. I must have done something good.
> 
> Posting this ask (there were two numbers in ask) in two parts as the other one got quite long! Thanks so much for submitting numbers @mygeekcorner! Enjoy :)

“Yuuri?” Victor called as he let himself into their flat and saw the lounge was empty.

“In the bedroom,” Yuuri called back, and Victor smiled, unwinding his scarf and pushing his shoes off with his toes.

He shed his coat on the way to the bedroom, planning on giving his husband a kiss.

“You can’t come in!” Yuuri’s voice said from beyond the door.

Victor paused.

“Why not, muffin?” Victor asked, not sure if he should be excited or worried.

“I’m not ready yet!”

Well that was confusing.

“Did we have plans?” Victor asked, feeling guilty. “Sorry, muffin, I completely forgot.”

“We didn’t! This is a surprise! But you’ll ruin it if you come in so shoo!”

Victor laughed, relieved he hadn’t forgotten plans of theirs.

“Okay, I’m going to pour us some wine if you fancy it.”

“Yes please!”

Victor chuckled and went to the kitchen. He uncorked a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and poured two glasses, before taking them over to the lounge area and placing one of the coffee table. The other he swirled and took a sip of as he waited.

Victor was scrolling through his Instagram when the door to the bedroom opened. Victor locked his phone and turned to look. And promptly choked.

Yuuri was in a dress. Not just any dress, a floor length, long sleeved black gown with a slit so high up the thigh it made Victor blush. As Yuuri stepped out into the lounge the slit parted to reveal one, creamy and smooth leg and oh my god he’d  _shaved._

And it wasn’t only the dress, there were a pair of black stilettos with a platform sole on his feet. Yuuri’s hair was swept back in his performance style, his eyes smokey with makeup and lips stained dark with lipstick, his cheeks shimmering slightly with highlighter.

Yuuri walked in the heels like he’d had practice, sauntering out into the lounge with a roll of the hips that made Victor feel like he’d been whacked over the head.

“Surprise,” Yuuri said, smirking at the way Victor’s jaw was still on the floor.

“Yuu—” Victor croaked, then coughed and tried again. “Yuuri, you… you’re wearing…”

“A dress?” Yuuri asked, a sparkle in his eyes at the effect he was having on Victor. He shrugged. “I felt like being pretty for you.”

“Mission accomplished,” Victor managed, before sliding off the couch to his knees. “You’re stunning, gorgeous, otherworldly, would make the gods weep.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him to devastating effect.

“I must have done something good, muffin, to deserve this.”

Yuuri shrugged again.

“Only in that you’re an amazing husband, a brilliant coach, and the best man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing… plus I like your face… and your butt.”

Victor laughed, managing to get to his feet to draw in close to Yuuri, taking his hips in his hands and giving them a possessive little squeeze that had Yuuri’s cheeks colouring.

“I am going to wreck you,” Victor rumbled, his accent thickening with arousal.

“Not if I wreck you first, Vityenka,” Yuuri said, voice breathy and lips falling open just so as he leant in a little, eyes hooded with desire.

And Victor knew he didn’t stand a chance.


	2. Coffee Shop Russian Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coffee shop was Yuuri’s absolute favourite. It was warm and cosy and cute. It did the most amazing mochas and even had a little stove fire, which was always lit in the cold New York autumn and winter. Phichit also had a couple of shifts there and liked to flick the mini marshmallows at Yuuri’s mouth from behind the counter. Their current record for Yuuri catching one was three tables and a stroller away. The baby in the stroller had seemed impressed even if his mother had been less so.
> 
> Yes, those were the reasons the cafe was Yuuri’s favourite. Definitely not because of the hot Russian man who also frequented it with his colleagues on their break. Definitely not.
> 
> Posting this one next even though it's more recent than others cos it's my fav. Don't @ me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee shop AUUUUUUU, my friends.

The coffee shop was Yuuri’s absolute favourite. It was warm and cosy and cute. It did the most amazing mochas and even had a little stove fire, which was always lit in the cold New York autumn and winter. Phichit also had a couple of shifts there and liked to flick the mini marshmallows at Yuuri’s mouth from behind the counter. Their current record for Yuuri catching one was three tables and a stroller away. The baby in the stroller had seemed impressed even if his mother had been less so.

Yes, those were the reasons the cafe was Yuuri’s favourite. Definitely not because of the hot Russian man who also frequented it with his colleagues on their break. Definitely not.

Yuuri was currently bundled up in a good spot by the little stove, watching the flames lick up the logs inside as he sipped his usual mocha and thumbed the page of his book. He usually managed to nab this spot as Phichit would save it for him when he knew Yuuri was coming in. It also gave him a prime view of the beautiful silver haired Russian man as he chatted to his colleague, a pretty redhead woman.

Yuuri was actually taking a Russian course at college. It had been free, and he figured why not take advantage of free lessons when he’d have to pay for them when he graduated? It could only increase his chances of getting hired.

His language skills were still not the best, but today the beautiful Russian man and his friend were actually sitting within earshot, so Yuuri tried to listen in to help him pick up a few phrases. Not because he was nosey. Because… because practical learning. Yes.

But thanks to the noise of the other patrons and his own rusty skills he only got bits and pieces.

“…will be so angry with you, Victor… just don’t do anything stupid… last month’s… the Versace fiasco… next season’s line…”

It was the redhead who was talking, and from what Yuuri could pick up, Victor, as he now knew the beautiful man’s name to be, was at risk of being in trouble with someone. Also they seemed to work in fashion, which made complete sense. Victor and his friends were always impeccably dressed. Not that Yuuri knew much about clothes. He himself was just glad when he’d done enough laundry to avoid wearing one of the t-shirts Phichit bought him, which usually sported slogans like “Bubble Butt” and “Man Crushing Thighs”.

Victor and the redhead had moved on to talking about the coffee. Victor seemed to be complimenting it, only for the redhead to interrupt him with a laugh.

“Oh please, I know that the only reason you come here is because of your cute coffee boy,” she was saying, and Yuuri’s first thought was that he was amazed and pleased he’d understood a full sentence. Then his heart plummeted.

Who was the cute coffee boy? Was it Phichit? It seemed likely. He was very pretty and Victor did always seem to be here during Phichit’s shifts.

“I’m also here for the coffee!” Victor protested.

And then, inexplicably, his eyes flicked over to Yuuri. Yuuri hastily looked back down at his book, his ears burning with the thought of being caught staring.

“…just so cute… with the reading though… wearing a sign saying ‘Don’t Talk To Me I’m Not Interested’… wouldn’t want to be  _ that  _ guy.”

Yuuri huffed. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or annoyed that he couldn’t quite translate all of what Victor was saying. On the one hand, he didn’t think he wanted to know more about his Favourite Unfairly Beautiful Man’s crush on his best friend. But on the other, well… everything Victor said was a gift. All soft and rumbly with the accent, but bubbly in tone like… like the  _ best  _ champagne.

“…when it’s styled… but fluffy hair look? Adorable, ten out of ten, would pine for again.”

The redhead laughed and Yuuri fought the urge to take a peek at the pair.

“I think you should go for it,” she said, making Yuuri’s heart stutter. “What’s the worst that can happen? …maybe a bit awkward if you run into each other, but there’s plenty of coffee shops around.”

Yuuri bit his lip, staring intently at the words on the page without taking any of them in. He could  _ not  _ watch Victor ask Phichit out. He could not.

Yes okay, he didn’t even know Victor, had never worked up the courage to so much as smile at him never mind talk to him, but it was his  _ best friend and roommate _ . God what if Phichit said yes? No, no, he wouldn’t do that, Yuuri told himself desperately as he gave a panicked glance over to where Victor was pursing his lips as though considering the idea. Phichit knew Yuuri liked the hot Russian who frequented the cafe, he certainly teased Yuuri enough about it. But then... as Yuuri had just thought, he had never even spoken to Victor. He had no claim on him. Phichit, lovely, popular, beautiful Phichit, would be completely within his rights to date Victor.

What if they started hanging out at the apartment? Being all attractive and coupley while Yuuri ate American microwave ramen that was an insult to his ancestors?

No, the thought was too awful. Yuuri sprang to his feet in the same moment that Victor stood up.

Shit, shitting hell. Dang and nammit. He needed to  _ leave _ .

Yuuri fumbled for his things, suddenly cursing himself at being so terrible with the cold weather that he had so many layers. Why did he have two books? He hadn’t finished the first one, there was absolutely no need to be carrying the second just in case he finished the first.

Yuuri had managed to get his arm through his hoodie, was clutching his coat in one hand, had dropped both books and could taste what felt like his diaphragm in his mouth, when a pair of feet stopped in front of him. Yuuri looked up.

And knocked the remainder of his mocha over.

“Whoopsie!” said Victor, diving forward to catch the mug at the same time as Yuuri.

This  _ of course _ meant they smacked heads and Yuuri let out a whimper that was a combination of pain and complete, utter, send me to hell mortification.

“Blyad,” Victor said, making Yuuri wince as Victor rubbed at his forehead.

Somewhere behind him Yuuri thought he heard Phichit make a noise that sounded alarming like the coffee machine frother. Though perhaps that was actually the coffee machine, Yuuri didn’t  _ know Victor was smiling at him oh god. _

“Well that is not how I wanted to introduce myself, but there we go,” Victor said, now speaking English as he dropped his hand and continued to smile at Yuuri for some unknown reason.

“Err…” was Yuuri’s eloquent and witty response.

Victor however seemed unphased, flipping his fringe out of his eyes and fixing Yuuri with a smirk that made him want to climb up the chimney above the stove to escape the feeling it gave him.

“I’m Victor. I’ve seen you in here a couple of times.”

“Err… yes?”

One of Yuuri’s most intelligent rejoiners, surely. He coughed and mentally kicked himself.

“Yes, um, I’ve seen you… too.”

So much better.

Despite Yuuri’s complete and utter humiliation, Victor grinned at the response, apparently delighted.

“So we’ve both been seeing each other,” he said with a wink, which oh god the smirk was bad enough. “Perhaps we could see each other somewhere else too?”

What.

“Maybe dinner? Or another cafe? I’m not fussy.”

What the absolute shitting hell.

“Sorry, I’m going about this all wrong,” Victor said, showing the first sign of embarrassment as Yuuri continued to gape at him like a mute fish. Not that fish spoke. Fish were always mute. For the love of god why was he thinking about fish when Victor was clearly the spiciest salmon roll in the ocean?

Yuuri was going to lobotomise himself.

“Perhaps I can get your name first?”

Yuuri’s disbelief and shock had apparently reached some kind of internal limit and defused into a sort of emotionless plateau.

“It’s Yuuri,” he said, slightly croaky, a little flat, but an actually acceptable response.

“Yuuri,” Victor purred, and if Yuuri hadn’t been so overwhelmed he may have trembled apart at the way Victor said his name. He still might. “Well, Yuuri, maybe I can get your number so we can talk more about that date?”

Yuuri’s emotions slammed back into him at Victor’s last word, bringing with them the sort of heat to his cheeks that he’d only previously felt from the New York sidewalk in the middle of July.

Despite this rather alarming state of being, Yuuri was able to accept the phone Victor was pushing at him after creating a new contact. Yuuri stared for a moment at the little hearts tagged onto the end of his name in the contact, and promptly felt all the blood leave his face again. If he kept going like this he was going to end up in the emergency room.

Yuuri typed his number out numbly and handed the phone back to Victor, his fingers all tingly.

“Wow, thank you so much,” Victor said, with such sincerity Yuuri could only stare at him. “I’ll text you later so you’ve got mine. I’m not going to do it front of you to make sure you gave me the right one, that’d be weird, and, shit, totally within your rights to, um…”

Yuuri watched with a kind of disjointed fascination at the way Victor cut himself off, a blush to rival Yuuri’s blooming over his cheeks as he fumbled the phone back into his pocket.

“Sure,” Yuuri said, managing to find his voice in the face of Victor’s apparent embarrassment. “I look forward to it.”

“Great.” Victor let out a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair and looking slightly more centred.

Then he glanced over his shoulder at his friend, who was getting to her feet with an amused expression that she couldn’t entirely hide by draining the last of her coffee.

“Ah, well, it looks like I better be going,” Victor said, turning back to Yuuri with a sheepish smile.

“Well I’ll… look forward to your text.”

Shit, he’d already said that. Moron.

“Great,” Victor said, a little breathless, smile widening into a more genuine grin. God, that was cute. “Well… see you.”

Then Victor was turning away and Yuuri was watching him go as though from behind a pane of glass. As Victor pushed the door open and threw one last smile over his shoulder at Yuuri before exiting, what had just happened fully hit Yuuri. He sank back into his armchair with a noise not unlike a balloon deflating.

Through the fingers he had pressed over his eyes, Yuuri saw Phichit hurrying over to watch Victor go through the window.

“He just did the nerdiest little celebration dance,” Phichit called over the heads of all the other patrons, who could you know, hear him. “By my jelly sandals, you two are perfect for each other.”

Yuuri summoned enough energy to fling his empty muffin wrapper at Phichit. Then had to apologise when it hit one of the stroller patroller mothers.


	3. Lay Myself Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Anon from earlier about dom viktor: i would LOVE to see it in a more suggestive fashion too. So maybe i guess my prompt would be... something to do with yuuri having anxiety and viktor needing to take control? Thanks again!!

“Yuuri!”

Victor’s voice rings through the apartment as he steps in with Makkachin. The poodle has just been to the groomers and then the vet for a check up, then Victor stopped to pick up some groceries and then again for a suit he left at the dry cleaners. It’s been a few hours since he saw Yuuri, and he’s anxious to find his husband and give him lots of kisses to make up for it.

But there’s no response to his call. Victor frowns, going to dump the groceries on the counter and his suit over the back of the coach. Then he chases Makkachin around the kitchen island until she stays still long enough for him take her leash off. Then he just has to remove his coat and shoes before he goes to hunt down his husband.

Yuuri isn’t in the bedroom. Nor is he in the adjoining en suite. He’s not in the guest bathroom, or the study, or the guest bedroom. Victor’s just starting to think he must’ve gone somewhere while Victor was out, and feeling rather put out that Yuuri didn’t leave a note or text, when he hears a muffled little sob from the airing cupboard. Victor frowns.

He opens the door to the airing cupboard to find Yuuri curled in a ball inside, tucked into a corner and clutching his knees as he shakes.

“Oh, no… come here, beautiful,” Victor says gently, kneeling down inside the cupboard to wrap his arms around Yuuri.

Yuuri’s not actually crying, but his body is heaving with great, wracking sobs. He doesn’t seem to be able to get a proper breath in. They all sound tight and painful. Victor leans back to hold Yuuri’s shoulders and tip his chin up with a finger to meet Victor’s eye. Yuuri’s eyes are unfocused and bounce around rather than focusing on him.

“Yuuri love,” Victor says, firm but gentle to get Yuuri to focus. “I need you to breathe with me, okay? Can you do that, beautiful?”

Yuuri can’t really reply, but he manages to settle his hazy gaze on Victor after a moment.

“Okay, now in one, two, three…” Victor counts, taking Yuuri’s hand and laying it against Victor’s chest to feel the breaths. “And out one, two, three…”

He continues like that, Yuuri struggling to follow along at first and then settling into it. His cheeks are fever bright, eyes still a little wild. But eventually Yuuri’s breathing evens out, taking breaths that sound less sharp and tight.

“Good boy,” Victor praises him, and he sees Yuuri shiver with it, his eyes falling shut as he goes lax at the praise. Victor smiles. “Such a good boy for me.”

Yuuri opens his eyes, and now there’s a faint blush on his previously blotchy cheeks as he drinks in the sight of Victor knelt before him.

“There he is,” Victor says, smiling at Yuuri and brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. Yuuri blinks owlishly at him, looking very small. He’s so painfully beautiful that Victor just wants to kiss him right now.

He settles for pressing a kiss to each of Yuuri’s hands instead, as Yuuri doesn’t need his breathing interrupted by a kiss right now.

“How’s that?” Victor asks, his lips still brushing Yuuri’s knuckles.

“B-better,” Yuuri stutters, still breathing a little shaky.

“Good,” Victor says, smiling at him. Yuuri gives him a wobbly smile in return.

They sit there for a moment, Victor just hugging Yuuri’s calves, Yuuri taking a moment to centre himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Victor asks, and Yuuri’s lips go into a distressed little mew.

“I…” he starts, and then frowns at himself. He lowers his voice to almost a whisper. “I was missing home. Don’t get me wrong! I love living here with you. I just… And then I started thinking how ungrateful I was being. You’re let me move into your home and you married me and you’re such a wonderful husband it feels like a dream. But I…”

Yuuri sighs, his lips tugged down into an unhappy little frown. He’s wearing one of Victor’s sweaters. God, Victor loves him so much.

Victor waits a moment before he speaks to see if Yuuri’s got anything more to say. But he doesn’t seem to.

“It’s okay to be homesick, Yuuri,” Victor assures him, massaging the muscles of his calves like he does after skating. “You’re a very long way from home, in a country where you can only speak your mother tongue with me. You can only see your family over FaceTime, your friends are all in Japan or Thailand or Detroit, and you struggle to get the ingredients for your favourite recipes. Of course you’re homesick, love. It’s completely normal. I loved Hasetsu, but every now and then I’d think of how sometimes Yakov would bring me a hot chocolate if I’d done well at a competition or in practice, ‘cause he knows I like them, and I’d ache to see him.”

“You did?” Yuuri asks, looking at Victor wide eyed.

“Of course, beautiful.”

It’s clearly a comfort, as Yuuri knows how happy he was in Hasetsu, knows Victor felt less lonely, more complete there, than he ever felt in Saint Petersburg.

“We can visit soon,” Victor promises him, and Yuuri gives him a shaky but genuine smile.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re my husband and I made an oath before god to take care of you, though I’d do it anyway.”

Yuuri looks so genuinely pleased by this, a little flustered blush spreading across his cheeks at the reminder of the vows Victor took to love him unconditionally, in sickness and in health.

There’s another pause and then —

“Why’re we in the airing cupboard?”

Yuuri gives a shaky laugh, rubbing at his mouth as he ducks his head.

“It’s warm,” he says. “And dark.”

“Ah,” Victor says, as though this is obvious. “Of course.”

“What can I do for you, beautiful?” Victor asks next, still rubbing Yuuri’s calves.

Yuuri stills, looks like he’s thinking about something. Then he blushes even darker. A slow grin spreads across Victor’s face.

“What is it, moya zvezda?” Victor asks, smoothing his hands up Yuuri’s legging clad legs until he’s gripping his hips. “Did you want me to take… control?”

Yuuri shivers, his eyes slipping shut as his breathing goes shallow.

“Because I can do that,” Victor goes on, giving his hips a squeeze before unfolding gracefully so he’s standing above Yuuri.

Yuuri blinks up at him with those big brown eyes, pink little mouth slightly open. Victor reaches out and slides his fingers into Yuuri’s hair, making his eyes flutter. Then Victor tightens his grip, and Yuuri moans.

“Good boy.”

And Yuuri’s little whimper is answer enough. Yuuri won’t have to think. Won’t have to make a single decision. Hand all his control over to his husband.

Victor’s going to take  _such_  good care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your nice comments and kudos. Also I know on my other fics which have more comments it's recently taking me like a month to reply, but know that I read all comments immediately (usually at work) and imma try better to be quick answering ily <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://ewokthrowdown.tumblr.com/).


	4. Forget Poetry, Give Me Moments Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri awoke slowly, becoming aware of his limbs, heavy beneath the blankets, warm with another’s. He smiled into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Okay, let’s write another part of the YouTubers AU, it’s what the people want.  
> My Writing Ability: Hm, no we have none of that. May I offer you a general vibe? A sleepy morning? A fluffy, domestic aesthetic?  
> Me: No I want plot, humour, character development. Are you sure there’s none in the back?  
> My Writing Ability: No we only have what’s on display.  
> Me: *flips table*

Yuuri awoke slowly, becoming aware of his limbs, heavy beneath the blankets, warm with another’s. He smiled into his pillow.

 

Victor’s body was pressed into his back, arm flung over Yuuri’s waist, breathing deep and slow.

 

Yuuri blinked, took in the curtains, hastily drawn over the windows last night so now that dawn had roused herself they let in faint winter sunlight. After seven then, but still fairly early, the light weak, rose touched. Very carefully, Yuuri turned.

 

Victor’s face was slack against the pillow. Usually his body clock had him snapping awake at six at the latest, but not that morning. Lilac kissed eyelids were closed over those devastating blues, thin, pink lips slightly parted. Skin pale as overcast skies, a slight blush across the cheeks from the warmth of sharing a duvet with another’s body heat, marble cut cheekbones and a jawline Yuuri could break against, but chose to meet with his lips instead. Not just yet though. No, now was the time for watching.

 

Yuuri never got to see Victor asleep in the morning light. In the evening the sight was frequent, Victor out like a light as soon as the clock hit eleven. Yuuri smiled as he thought of those early days in Hasetsu, not as early as when he was still running away from Victor, but when he’d started to relax, lean into him, touch back.

 

Phichit liked to say Yuuri was oblivious to everything, never noticed the plethora of smitten men and women that liked to follow him around Detroit. But the truth was, Yuuri didn’t _want_ to notice them. He wanted to notice Victor. And he wasn’t stupid. He caught the way Victor would watch him when he thought Yuuri wasn’t looking, the way Victor seemed to orbit him, liked to touch him, do things with him, pay him compliments.

 

That’s not to say Yuuri _believed_ it at first. No, he’d been convinced that Victor saw him as a fun distraction, a toy to play with and then drop, onto the next shiny thing. But after a little while he let himself ease into it, think maybe, just maybe…

 

And oh the reward of that maybe was immense. Victor struggling to stay up past eleven because those were the True Katsuki Yuuri Hours, when Yuuri was a live wire, slightly frantic as the witching hour pushed on. And Victor was so sweet the sleepier he got. Naturally touchy while awake, he became increasingly affectionate when sleepy. And Yuuri didn’t know what to do with this cuddly, heavy lidded Victor who curled up on the tatami and laid his head in Yuuri’s lap as they watched TV. Fully awake Victor tended to say whatever came into his head it was true, but sleepy Victor became a night blogger, his train of thought increasingly difficult to follow, but usually meandering back to how cute Yuuri looked in that hoodie, how pretty Yuuri had looked with the sakura petals in his hair that day, how beautiful Yuuri was on the ice. And he’d tell Yuuri how much he meant to him, how funny and clever and nice Yuuri was. The things that mattered so much more than grace and beauty.

 

Yuuri had been flattered and flustered in equal measure. And he’d stroked Victor’s hair as the summer wore on, let himself imagine.

 

Which is how he was laying in bed, months later, watching the morning light turn Victor into something ephemeral. Even as his hair lay in disarray, as the prints from the pillow edged into sight on his cheek, and as Yuuri spied the slight smudges under his eyes — no doubt courtesy of the little sleep Victor had gotten while Yuuri and he had been apart until yesterday — he was still stunning. Yuuri may have considered himself bias, but there was the undeniable fact that Victor had a modelling contract on top of his skating career and millions of fans to boot.

 

Victor snuffled slightly and burrowed in closer to Yuuri’s warmth even as he slept on. Yuuri was defenseless against the smile that bloomed across his face as Victor’s nose came to press against his bicep, tucked into the dip between it and his shoulder, unconsciously seeking Yuuri’s scent. Victor went lax again, and Yuuri felt it bloom in him, helplessly sweet, overwhelming affection that rose up and swept through him like a wave breaking on summer warm sand.

 

This was his forever.

 

Yuuri was pleasantly sore, could feel it in his body like a good workout. But unlike a good workout it came from more private places too. The place where Victor had sunk into him last night, something they’d saved until now. They’d done other things, shared orgasms that shook through their bodies and had them sagging into each other's arms. But never all the way.

 

Curiously, Victor had been the one to insist on waiting. Yuuri, despite being the inexperienced one, had been desperate for it, had nearly sobbed begging for it as Victor sucked him off in one hotel room. Until Victor had released him to blink lazily up at him, a wicked smile on that clever mouth as he said “no, sweetheart, I think I’ll wait with you. Savour this.”

 

At first Yuuri had been annoyed, thought Victor was trying to protect his modesty, didn’t think Yuuri trusted himself enough to know what he wanted. Then Yuuri had understood. Victor wasn’t being careful for Yuuri’s sake. Victor was protecting himself. Victor Nikiforov, wordly, stunning and experienced Victor, had never been in love. And he wanted their first time to be as perfect as last night was.

 

Victor had collected him from the airport, their greeting more appropriate for some war time separation than a few days apart for their respective nationals. Victor had been with Yuuri in Japan before having to leave for his own nationals, leaving Minako to be the stand in support and frantically skyping whenever he could.

 

Between practices Yuuri had packed up his own and few remaining things of Victor’s, the routine and the time alone giving him room to centre himself. Not that he liked being away from Victor, but the quiet gave him thinking space before another big change in his life. It was when he really started feeling like Victor’s fiance; helping him do something like pack up the belongings that were still at Yutopia while Victor went to do what he did best.

 

Victor had nearly torn himself apart in order to be ready for nationals on time. He’d only beaten out Yurio for gold by a couple of points, and that was only because Yurio himself had torn himself apart for the Grand Prix, while Victor had had an empty ice rink in Hasetsu and plenty of time to train as well as rest in the months before his return. And an empty ice rink was no small thing.

 

Victor had thought there was no way to surprise his audience, he’d told Yuuri so, but with new inspiration and unlimited ice-time to experiment, he’d created a programme that showed the beginnings of an intention to change the sport for good. Though Victor had told Yuuri that _he, Yuuri,_ would be the one to do that. Yuuri just shrugged and hummed because it was easier than disagreeing.

 

Victor hummed quietly and shifted in his sleep, and Yuuri knew it wouldn’t be long until he was awake. Yuuri smiled and turned to press himself close. He lay kisses across Victor’s temple, his cheek, small offerings in exchange for Victor’s attention. Victor came to slowly, making little activation noises as he stirred.

 

Yuuri loved him so much he ached with it.

 

“Mmm… mn’ello,” Victor murmured, tongue sleep slurred and accent thick with it. His voice was a deep rumble this early, one that had Yuuri curling into him in response, his touches becoming heavy with intent.

 

“Hello,” Yuuri replied, just this side of breathless as he arched into Victor, pressed their cheeks together and hooked a leg over Victor’s hip to draw him close.

 

“Oh…” Victor said, leaning back just enough to take in Yuuri’s flushed cheek state, his own eyes going heavy, wanting.

 

Then there were no more words. Only gasps as Victor pressed kisses to Yuuri’s collarbone, as Yuuri rolled him onto his back, as Victor watched him rise up and sink down onto that glorious length, careful but easy with last night’s stretching.

 

It was slow, languid, Victor’s hands tight on Yuuri’s hips as they rose and fell over his own, Yuuri’s body rolling as his head fell back, mouth open and hands trailing up his own body, overwhelmed by the feeling of that blunt pressure opening him again, and again, impossibly full.

 

Then Victor was murmuring his name, a gentle invocation that had Yuuri looking back down at him, trembling with the look in Victor’s eyes as he watched Yuuri move over him. It didn’t take long after that.

 

Yuuri’s cries mingled with Victor’s praise, his hand on Victor’s chest as he drove them both mad by keeping it slow and oh so deep. His orgasm was intense when it was unhurried like this, the aching rhythm fraying his voice into something unrecognisable, thready and unspooled like the heat that drove through him, obliterating everything in its path, including Victor.

 

They slumped together afterwards, Yuuri boneless and heavy on top of his fiance, his face tucked into Victor’s neck, where he smelled of mostly faded aftershave and warm skin.

 

They were silent for a while, nothing but their breathing and heartbeats slowing and the smooth slide of Victor’s fingers against his back. Then —

 

“I haven’t slept that well in a week,” Victor said, his voice rumbling through his chest into Yuuri’s.

 

Yuuri smiled and tucked himself impossibly closer.

 

“Me neither.”

 

“Welcome home, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will write more YT AU so help me, I'm just stuck with the one I'm on. I miss y'all.
> 
> Thank you for reading ^^


	5. Your Love Runs Through My Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by sheepskeleton-art's gorgeous [YOI horror zine piece](https://sheepskeleton-art.tumblr.com/post/187648008186/my-yoi-horror-zine-art-its-finally-time-to).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the lovely [Ravensmores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores). Never had a beta on any of these works so it was very helpful!

****A crack of lightning briefly throws ghostly shadows over the drawing room of a sprawling manor house. Outside the windows the storm rages over the hills, but inside it’s warm and lit with the soft glow of many candles. On a plush chaise sits a man, though that’d be a poor word for what he truly is. His hair is an unusual bright silver, his skin is pale as marble and as finely cut. He’s slim, his proportions every artist’s dream with his broad shoulders and tapered waist. He’s dressed casually at the moment, a cream shirt underneath a tan, sleeveless vest, the buttons left open. Delicate fingers turn a page of the book propped in one hand as startling blue eyes flick over the words inside.

There’s an odd quality to the manor. It should be your classic eerie house, what with the long corridors and dark corners. But there’s a warmth to it. It’s in the lovingly kept little trinkets that’re on the surfaces around the man; a music box, an ornamental bird, a dried bunch of roses. Keepsakes in which the sentimental value is clear. It’s clear that the people who live here have something to live _for._

There’s another crack of lightning as the door to the drawing room opens, revealing a second man. This man is just as ethereally beautiful as the first, but they can’t possibly be human. Not with looks like that.

The second man is asian, his skin slightly darker than the first but still deathly pale. His raven hair is swept back from a smooth forehead, and his dark, clever eyes drink in the man on the chaise as he looks up, and promptly beams.

“Yuuri, my love,” the silver-haired man purrs, and Yuuri smirks, stepping into the room fully.

“Victor,” he returns, voice fond to match the look he’s giving his husband.

Victor drinks in the sight of Yuuri like a man dying of thirst, how he’s wearing one of Victor’s shirts, a few buttons left open so it slips artfully off one shoulder, a pair of dark trousers hugging his gorgeously thick thighs.

Yuuri stalks towards his intended victim like a cat ready to pounce. The roll of his hips is sending Victor directly to heaven, though Victor’s not entirely sure either of them will ever get there.

The pair of them are watched by many versions of themselves from the walls. Many styles of dress that haven’t been in fashion for decades appear in the portraits, some of the paintings darkened by age. And the meaning behind all the little keepsakes is very clear.

“What are you doing in here all alone, darling?” Yuuri asks, settling himself into Victor’s lap like a throne.

Victor’s hands automatically rise to smooth up his thighs, stopping to grip his hips as he basks in the sight of Yuuri above him, the heat heavy in his eyes as he takes in Victor’s hungry expression.

“Not being an attentive husband, clearly,” Victor hums, nuzzling forward into the hollow of Yuuri’s throat. “Can you forgive me, my love?”

“Always.”

Victor grins and kisses up Yuuri’s neck. His scent is divine, something dark and alluring, spicy with a metallic hint that speaks of how recently he’d fed. They’d shared that meal, though the human involved had been left unharmed if a little light headed and incredibly aroused, their memory of the incident wiped.

“You’re very hard to resist right now, my love,” Victor murmurs into the little space of skin just beneath Yuuri’s ear that always makes him shiver.

“Why resist?” Yuuri replies, his voice like sex and velvet, heady and alluring. “I’m all yours, my dearest Vitka.”

Victor groans and raises his head to ravish Yuuri’s lips. He feels Yuuri smirking into the kiss and gives his lip a little nip in payback. Yuuri just hums in appreciation.

“Vitka…”

God, he sounds so wrecked already. Victor pops a couple more buttons of his shirt, revelling in the smooth skin revealed to him. He sucks greedy kisses along Yuuri’s collarbone, their heaving breaths accompanied by the sound of rain and thunder.

“Do you have any idea the things you do to me, my love?” Victor murmurs against the skin of Yuuri’s chest.

“Tell me.”

It’s a demand, as though Victor’s compliments are Yuuri’s god given right, as though every being should prostrate themselves at his feet. And rightly so.

“You undo me,” Victor rumbles, voice rough with arousal. “I am yours to command. I am unworthy of your notice, and yet you love me, and I love you. I have loved you for centuries and I will love you for centuries more, until the final sleep takes us both, and even beyond that. This love has toppled empires. Forget Helen, your beauty has started _three_ wars.”

“Not intentionally,” Yuuri grumbles, and Victor chuckles.

“Such is your power, gorgeous creature that you are.”

“Take me,” Yuuri begs on a sigh.

And Victor feels it like a hook in his stomach. That molten desire. He bites into the satin smooth skin of that gorgeous throat. Yuuri lets out a breathless cry, his back arching and his fingers tightening in Victor’s hair. Victor drinks, his head dizzy with the taste of Yuuri, tinged a little with another’s, the one they drank from earlier.

Yuuri is making needy little noises, and Victor knows that’s his cue. He releases his hold on Yuuri’s neck, lapping at the wound, then holds him more securely to stand. Yuuri’s grip tightens as they rise, and he rolls his hips against Victor once, suggestive. Victor almost growls.

“Let’s get you somewhere I can ravish you properly,” Victor says, kissing up Yuuri’s jaw until he finds his mouth and they share a blazingly hot kiss.

“Yes, Vitka. I am yours.”

“And I yours. Forever.”

“Forever.”

A crack of lightning breaks across the sky, but in their shared bed, Victor and Yuuri create their own storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Crack house](https://ewokthrowdown.tumblr.com/).


	6. How About These Notions, They're Deep As Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Calling out my name, Screaming out in vain, Singing hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFn2kyvkk7g)
> 
> Inspired by the song Notion, linked above.

Sometimes Yuuri feels like Victor’s touch is molten metal in his veins.

Victor runs a hand up his stomach, over his chest, and Yuuri arches into it, a gasp escaping his lips. He’s dry kindling catching the lightning strike of Victor’s fingers.

Victor presses kisses over his skin, and it feels like each one is devotion. Like he’s pressing worship into Yuuri’s body, laying out his dedication.

Their breathing and the sound of skin sliding over skin, of bed-sheets disturbed by their movements fills the room. It’s raining outside, the night cold and dark. But their bedroom is warm and filled with the honey soft glow of lamplight.

Yuuri shivers as Victor licks at his chest, where he’s sensitive, his hand sliding down between Yuuri’s legs, where he’s needy. Yuuri lets out a keening moan as Victor touches him, his legs falling further apart, rocking his hips up into the touch.

Victor’s watching him, devouring the sight of Yuuri flushed and wanton beneath him with ravenous eyes. Yuuri feels that same hunger for him, is constantly starved for Victor’s touch, only sated when their hands are on each other.

“Do you know what you look like right now, my love?” Victor murmurs, doing something with his hand that makes Yuuri let out a cry that sounds like a hallelujah.

Victor smirks and ducks his head to mouth at Yuuri’s neck, pouring out words of praise in his ear that has Yuuri dizzy with need. He’s never been able to take Victor’s praise without getting hopelessly turned on, even before they were officially together.

At some point Victor’s fingers become slick, and then Yuuri’s cursing in Japanese as Victor slides one into him. Yuuri’s legs are pushed up and apart, and he’s so exposed, so vulnerable, but he doesn’t care, craves Victor’s eyes on him. Victor just keeps telling him how gorgeous he is, how well he’s doing, and _beautiful, Yuuri, just beautiful._

Eventually Yuuri’s begging, rocking his hips forward into Victor’s hand and then back onto his fingers, mad with the touch of both. Victor hushes his wimpers with soothing kisses, and “I know, my love, I know, I’m here.”

He pulls Yuuri’s hips into his lap, Yuuri’s legs split around him, and then Yuuri’s being opened by that gorgeous length, back arching off the bed. And Yuuri is a livewire, he’s cracked through with this love, it’s carved into him. He was made for this.

Yuuri pulls Victor down to kiss him, to gasp into his mouth as Victor moves. And oh god he’s fucking him so well, Yuuri is lost, can say nothing but _“Vitya”_ and _“hai”._ They breathe into the small space between them, their foreheads pressed together as Victor drives in deep, slow, and hard, over and over as Yuuri’s voice breaks.

Victor, despite being the loud one in every other situation, is quieter in bed. He gasps and moans, but it’s Yuuri’s voice that frays into a wail as he gets driven higher.

“I — I, Vitya, oh,” Yuuri doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore, only that he needs to tell Victor how much he loves him, how good it feels, how much he needs it.

“I… need, need you, Vitya, oh. I love… Vi…”

The words slip away from him, but Victor pushes his hair tenderly back from his face and kisses him in a way that says it all.

Yuuri’s squirming now, hovering somewhere near the edge but not quite there.

“Please,” he pants out, rocking his hips up to meet each thrust. “Please, I need it.”

Victor, beautiful, wonderful Victor, understands perfectly. He slides out, making Yuuri whimper, but then Yuuri’s being flipped onto his front, Victor sliding home again and making Yuuri moan shamelessly.

Then Victor picks up the pace. Yuuri can only cry out and grip the edge of the mattress, his spine bending to accept Victor’s length. He feels unstuck, unspooled. Each noise he makes is more wrecked than the last, his voice something high and needy.

And Victor’s murmuring praise into his ear, slamming into his body, abusing his hole while he tells Yuuri how gorgeous he is. And Yuuri feels it, feels how beautiful he is, in that way that only Victor can make him feel.

And if Yuuri could stay this close to his husband forever he would. Needs it like breathing. But he’s getting close now, the combination of Victor fucking into him brutally and the friction on his cock from the mattress beneath him too much.

He used to muffle his voice into his hand or a pillow, but after Victor told him how much he loved hearing how he made Yuuri feel, he’s become less worried. So he’s keening Victor’s name as he comes, voice breathy and accent strong.

He feels Victor shudder above him, his hips driving forward a couple more times before he’s coming along with Yuuri. Victor lets out a groan and bites down on Yuuri’s shoulder, not hard enough to truly hurt, just pinch a little.

They rock against each other, gasping, prolonging their pleasure, before they still.

Victor’s peppering kisses over his shoulder, both of them catching their breath. Then Victor’s sliding out, and Yuuri moans as he feels a gush of Victor’s spend leak from him.

Victor kneels back behind him, and Yuuri turns to see him looking at where they were joined. He almost turns over, but then Victor’s grabbing his cheeks, parting them to drink in the sight of Yuuri’s used hole, no doubt red and wet. Victor moans and bites his lip. Yuuri’s cock gives a valiant twitch at the expression on Victor’s face.

And how can something so filthy be so beautiful? The look Victor’s giving him, like he wants to drown in Yuuri, like he can’t breathe without him.

Victor leans forward and presses a kiss to his temple. Then he scoops him up and carries him to the bathroom. He lowers Yuuri to sit on the edge of the tub and turns the taps on. Once the bath is full they bathe together, Victor washing Yuuri tenderly, with gentle touches that make him feel like something precious. Every now and then Victor presses a kiss to his shoulder or the side of his neck.

When they’re dry and back in bed, Yuuri tucks himself under Victor’s chin. He’s got this notion, that they’re deep as oceans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Breaks down your front door and suplexes you into a table* HI DO YOU HAVE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR, TASH SULTANA?
> 
> I am... big gay. [Tumbs](https://ewokthrowdown.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblybop](https://ewokthrowdown.tumblr.com/) and feel free to chat, yell, send me prompts :)


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